


i found love where it wasn't supposed to be

by Skyson



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-24
Updated: 2017-03-24
Packaged: 2018-10-10 05:23:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10430058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyson/pseuds/Skyson
Summary: "Why do you care so much?!""I don't know."It was true, she didn't know. But this panicked, desperate, breath-stealing pain that she felt terrified her. Terrified her because this seemed to be becoming a pattern, whenever his mortality came into question. Why did she care so much?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A briefly 4x15, mostly post- 4x15 fic, a collection of scenes that directly lead up to eventual Lizzington. I've changed some things about the happenings of that episode. Also, flow of time is a bit dubious in this one; there are various jumps between the sections here, most of them moving forward. The flashbacks have hopefully been labeled sufficiently. Rating isn't Explicit at first, but it gets there.
> 
> Title from "I Found" by Amber Run, the song I listened to as I wrote this. It gives me all of the Lizzington feels.
> 
> This is... way longer than I planned. Haha, oops. Hope you enjoy.

* * *

 

The timing was horrible. It wasn't Red's fault, but, a part of her wanted to blame him anyway. What else could she blame? Time itself? Fate? God? She'd gotten so used to blaming him for most things, lately, anyway.

"If you walk out of that door, Elizabeth, I won't be here when you get back," Tom threatened, pointing his finger toward the front door of their apartment.

Trying to calm her frantic nerves as she shoved her arms through her coat, she gave him an incredulous look.

"I _have to go_ , Tom," She insisted, shaking her head, and he folded his arms across his chest.

"I'll call Charlene and drop Agnes off there." He told her, and she paused long enough to stare at him. He was serious. "It wouldn't do to have a child in my line of work, would it?" He laughed without any humor. "She'll be happier with you, anyway."

" _Tom_ ,"

"Go. It was always going to be him over me, anyway." He turned away, resolved, and regardless of their past she found her heart constricting tightly, a familiar pain in her chest when it came to Tom.

"He's _dying_ , Tom!" She exclaimed. "How could you even compare - "

"Why do you care so much?!" He returned, throwing his hands up in the air, turning to challenge her with his gaze again.

Much as she didn't want it to, she could feel the way her lower lip trembled slightly, and she swallowed, squaring her shoulders.

"I don't know." She admitted, almost a whisper.

It was true, she didn't know. But this panicked, desperate, breath-stealing pain that she felt terrified her. Terrified her because this seemed to be becoming a pattern, whenever his mortality came into question. Why did she care so much?

"Reddington is probably looking for you, anyway." Tom gestured vaguely toward the door behind her, and stalked down the hallway toward the back room, no doubt going to begin to pack his bags.

Liz hesitated only a moment longer before dashing out the door, pulling her phone out of her pocket as she dug in her pocket for her car keys.

"Dembe! I'm on my way. Tell him I'm on my way."  
  


\----------

 

 

EARLIER THAT MORNING

"I can't do this anymore." Liz announced calmly, preparing herself for his response. Tom frowned, confused.

"Do what anymore?" He asked, narrowing his eyes as he began to assume what it was she was talking about.

"This," she gestured around the apartment. "It's a lie that I can't perform anymore. I can't believe I even tried to for this long."

"What?" He asked sharply, his shoulders tensing. "What's a lie? Us?"

"Don't act so insulted," She accused him, more weary than cold-hearted, "we were a lie before, were we not?"

"That was before I fell in love with you, before I knew,"

"That I was a mistake," She finished dryly, nodding. "I was the job and you made a mistake."

"Where is this coming from?" He exclaimed, taking a step toward her. She took a step away, and he immediately stopped. She was intent, her eyes watching him sharply. He realized that she was legitimately afraid for his response, but also entirely ready to defend herself. "Liz," He started softly, trying to placate her.

"You haven't changed and I had really hoped that having a child would have changed you. That was stupid of me," She shook her head, talking to him as if she were sorry for him. "You're good at what you do, you love what you do. And I can't take that away from you anymore than I could take it away from him. I'm just sorry that I tried."

"From him - who - Liz, I," He had so many questions he wasn't sure where to begin.

"You miss it, Tom." Liz told him, "and I know you do. Pretending to be somebody else. The espionage. The killing. You've been sneaking out and lying to me and you think that all is right in the world but it's not - it's not. We aren't working. This," She gestured around again, pointedly hesitating her arm toward Agnes, who was sitting in her high chair stuffing baby food into her mouth with her fingers. "Isn't working. And I'm done trying to make you into someone you aren't. I'm sorry that it's taken me this long to let you go."

"Let me go?" He repeated incredulously. "Liz, I _want_  to be, I'm _trying_  to be a good father, a good husband,"

"You are trying," She nodded, "and I appreciate that. But you're giving up your own self to do so, and I don't want you to do that anymore."

"So you're telling me that I'm free to go and keep pretending to be other people? Steal secrets? Kill people?" Tom challenged in disbelief.

"I know that you're working for Hargrave, Tom." Liz raised her eyebrow. "And while for the life of me I can't understand why you're doing that when you know that she's your mother but she has no idea - well, that's your choice I suppose. Her methods may not be entirely legal, but I can... there are instances where her company has been of some help." Liz grudgingly admitted.

"So if you approve of my job choice, then why are you telling me that we're not working?"

"Because we aren't. It has nothing to do with my approval or disapproval of who you answer to."

"We're working on it, though, Liz. I thought we agreed that we would keep working on it," He tried the soft, consoling tone, but it only served to remind her of his 'school-teacher days', and it made her feel ill.

"You agreeing to work for Hargrave isn't doing any favors to our daughter." She returned, and he chewed on the inside of his cheek for a moment, in frustration.

"Fine, okay, I have enough sense to agree with you there." He admitted angrily, propping his hands on his hips. Liz didn't say anything, just looked at him in a pointedly, sad, manner. "So, what? You don't love me?"

She took her time considering on how she would answer him.

"Tom, we've discussed this before. I _haven't_  loved you, not since.... And you don't love me, either. You love the _idea_  of me." Her phone began to ring, and she knew that he noticed the relief that crossed her features as she pulled it out of her pocket.

"Don't answer that, Liz. What are you talking about, the idea of you?" Tom pressed, trying to keep her attention as she looked at the screen.

 _Nick's Pizza_.

"It's work," Liz told him, hoisting her bag onto her shoulder. "Hello," She answered into the phone as Tom scowled and shuffled his feet, but stayed where he was.

"Elizabeth, I'm standing in your office but you're not here." Red announced, and she inwardly rolled her eyes. _No shit_. "I have a new Blacklister for you." He sounded a little out of breath, which was odd, but she was too distracted at the moment to think too much about it.

"I'm on my way." She told him, hanging up the phone before he could say anything else, and tucked it into her pocket. "I need to go." She informed Tom. "We can continue this conversation later."

"Answer my question first!" Tom finally broke, moving toward her in one swift move and grasping her arms to hold her in the apartment for a moment longer. "Why would you say something like that and then just leave?"

"Unlike you, I don't like lying to people, Tom. And I can't any longer." She gave him a sincerely apologetic look. "I've changed, since... since having Agnes. I'm not the same woman you may or may not have fallen in love with years ago. Look, I obviously didn't plan on dropping this on you and leaving, but this is important. We have a new Blacklister, and,"

"And when Reddington calls _Lizzie_  goes running," Tom finished snidely, and she frowned deeply at him, pushing him away from her. He didn't even know that it _was_  Red who called. "You haven't changed because of Agnes, Liz - you've changed because of him."

"We'll finish discussing this when I get home tonight." She told him, the warning look on her face making him take another step outside of her space.

She left, and Tom looked at the door for a long moment, eventually shuffling back to the kitchen table and sitting down. Agnes gurgled at him, and rather robotically he scooped up some of her food with the spoon and fed her.

He stared at her while she ate, still flummoxed by the entire morning. He wasn't surprised by the conversation, really, he'd been expecting it eventually - he was just surprised by the timing, and how resolved Liz already was.  
  


\----------

 

 

PRESENT

"Samar," Liz drew the other woman to the side, just outside of the bedroom Red had been transferred to in Marvin's home.

"What is it?" Samar asked, noticing Liz's lowered tone and serious expression.

"I wouldn't ask this of you unless it was incredibly important. I need you to do something for me."

"Of course," Samar answered immediately, "what's wrong?" Liz glanced around for a moment before replying, lowering her voice further just in case the others in the house were nearby.

"Here's the key to my apartment. Can you pick up Agnes for me? Bring her to the office?"

Samar took the key from her, a look of concern on her face.

"I just... I doubt anything is wrong, I'm sure he wouldn't do anything, but... I'm worried." Liz admitted, and Samar's eyes grew sharp.

"Is this about Tom? What has he done?" She demanded, and unknowing to both women, Red could still hear them, and he hesitated his mussing with the tubes and wires connected to his body, slowing his movements as he focused more intently on their conversation.

"Nothing, he hasn't done anything. I really don't think he would; he does care about Agnes, but..."

"You're a new mother and Tom is Tom. You don't need to make any excuses to me about worrying for your daughter's safety. You sure he hasn't done anything?" Samar looked at her closely, probably checking for injury.

"It was me, Samar. I..." Liz sighed. "I'm ending it with him. This thing, that I've tried to concoct, I just can't keep doing it." She looked deeply into her friend's eyes. "I told him the truth."

"The truth about..." Samar pressed.

"Me."

"You?" Samar questioned, not following.

Red blinked slowly, both the toxin and the anti-toxin making it difficult for him to concentrate on anything.

"I don't love him."

Red froze, his breath going shallow for reasons unrelated to being poisoned. Suddenly everything seemed like it was covered in a film of molasses. Slow-motion. Had his heart stopped beating?

"You don't..." Samar was surprised by this, and definitely curious, but she focused on the immediate importance at hand. "How did he react?"

"Not violently," Liz assured her, "but I would just feel better if Agnes were here. He cares about her, but he may still try to keep her from me, I don't know."

"I'll get her, Liz." Samar promised, tucking the apartment key into her pocket.

"Thank you, Samar," Liz said gratefully. "There's a bag in the closet in my bedroom, full of everything she would need. And her favourite toy is currently a stuffed penguin, it's probably still in her crib," Liz thought quickly, and Samar put a hand on her shoulder.

"It's alright for you to worry about her, but I'm sure everything is fine." Samar comforted her, and then added, "What should I do if Tom tries to put up a fuss?"

"Just don't kill him, okay? But... get Agnes." Liz told her firmly, and she nodded. "Maybe...just in case - like I said I'm sure he wouldn't try anything - but take someone with you?" Liz sighed and shook her head. "I would do this myself, but Red... I want to stay here."

"I've got it." Samar assured her. "And I'll text you once I have her and we're at the office, okay?"

"Thank you so much." Liz replied intently. "I owe you."

Red tapped his hand thoughtfully against his thigh, relaxing his head back against his pillows as someone - it was Samar - slipped in through the cracked door.

"You heard all that?" Samar sidled next to the bed, speaking lowly and quickly, her body language as if she were just checking in on him before she left. He glanced back to see that Liz wasn't within eyesight; hopefully she was also out of earshot as well.

He nodded silently.

"Do you think Tom would harm Agnes?" She asked, and Red shook his head.

"He wouldn't, but that doesn't mean he wouldn't harm you, or Elizabeth if he decides to get violent about this." Red spoke, occasionally pausing as he had to breathe in to say the next few words. "Take Dembe with you. He's been there before. He knows where to go."

"Thank you," Samar said with some surprise, and Red gave her a dreadfully serious expression.

"If you start to suspect that Tom may harm that child..." He let the threat hang in the air, and Samar nodded.

"I will."  
  


\----------

 

 

"Where's Dembe?" Liz wondered as she sat down in the chair next to his bed, sitting on the edge of the cushion so she could reach his hand and cradle it in her own.

"Oh, he's running a personal errand," Red waved his free hand in the air as if it wasn't a big deal.

"Oh," Liz murmured quietly, as if she suspected that errand was to help Samar, and to Red's surprise, Liz didn't say anything else on the subject.

At least, not until he'd almost dozed off, comforted by the silence in the room and the warmth of her hand.

"Red?"

Her tone of voice drew his attention more than anything else, and he met her gaze with a questioning look.

"Do you have a safe house I could stay at, tonight?" She asked, then quickly added, "Agnes and I."

"What did he do?" He asked sharply, turning his body a little more toward her now. He winced at the mild pain in his ribs, but ignored it.

"Nothing," She assured immediately, "Just... in case."

"Of course I always have a place for you." He replied gently. He wouldn't push, as much as he wanted to. He was just happy that she sought him out when she felt that she was in danger.

"It wasn't Tom, it was me." She told him, surprising him even more with her candidness. She looked across his bed, out the window across the room, and continued, "I told him the truth."

"The truth about..." He encouraged as carefully as he could.

"That I don't love him," She said toward the window, "and I'm tired of forcing it."

Very few times in his life did Raymond Reddington truly find himself without words, but this was one of those times.

He slowly relaxed against his pillows again, looking at the ceiling.

Red was too afraid to ask the question most prominent in his mind.

He turned his head toward the window as much as was comfortable, gazing outside but noticing nothing, stifling back another bout of coughing. Thankfully, at least, the medicine was starting to work it's magic, so his coughs weren't so rib-cracking anymore.

Liz's hand tightened slightly in his own, and she brushed her thumb carefully across his knuckles. He closed his eyes.  
  


\----------

 

 

Samar knocked on the door as Dembe continued down to the end of the hall, making sure there wasn't anyone hanging around in the halls, just in case Tom decided to be belligerent.

"Agent Navabi?" Tom questioned after he opened the door. "Are you looking for Liz? She's not here; she left about an hour ago,"

"I'm not looking for Elizabeth, Tom." Samar informed him, and at her pointed look, he visibly sighed and nodded, stepping back to allow her into the apartment. That's when he noticed her companion.

"Dembe?" Tom didn't hide his surprise as he watched the larger man step into the apartment after Samar, only offering him a silent nod of his head before immediately moving toward the living room, where he'd noticed Agnes resting in her carrier.

"Plan on leaving?" Samar asked him levelly, watching as Dembe began interacting with the baby.

"No," Tom assured her, "though I did consider it." Samar looked at him sharply, and he simply shrugged. "It doesn't matter how frustrated I am about it - Liz was right." He looked toward Agnes, now, who was giggling as Dembe danced a stuffed penguin in front of her. "Agnes deserves a loving and happy household, and Liz can give that to her better than I can. Better than we can together, if I stayed." Tom looked back at Samar, who was peering at him closely, gauging his honesty. "Sometimes the 'fake it until you make it' method just doesn't work. And I... I do care about her. About Agnes. I want her to have as much happiness as possible."

"You mean that." Samar didn't hide her surprise at that, and Dembe glanced up toward them.

"Just," Tom shook his head, his expression closed off now. "Tell Liz that she doesn't have to explain anything else to me. I get it." He gestured toward the hall. "I was going to call Charlene, but if you're here to pick her up... I'll just get my stuff and I'll be gone before Liz gets off work."

"And you will stay gone?" Dembe straightened, his statement a bit more like a threat than like a question. Tom met his hard stare with a narrowed gaze of his own.

"Like I said before, Liz was right." Tom admitted honestly. "I do miss it, my work. As difficult as it is to find the right diapers sometimes, that's just not the same... adrenalin rush."

Dembe nodded at him, no doubt understanding that feeling (though Dembe's circumstances had been far different than Tom's).

"No doubt he wants me gone completely, right?" Tom sighed, pulling a chair over to the counter by the stove, and standing on top of it. "That's why you're here," he gestured toward Dembe with one hand as he reached above the top cabinets, far back into the corner. "You're here to make sure I stay away from his girls, right?" Tom laughed lightly, pulling a small box from it's hiding place and hopping down onto the floor. "I should have known. I _did_  know, I think. Just didn't want to think about it." He muttered, looking at the box in his hands and then back at Dembe. "The only man she's tried to 'make better' is Raymond Reddington," Tom laughed disparagingly.

Samar gave Dembe a look, who frowned, and Tom continued,

"That's what she said to me, this morning. That she couldn't take away my criminal instincts any more than she could take them away from him."

"From Reddington?" Samar said with disbelief, still looking at Dembe for an explanation, and he shook his head in the negative, not following Tom either.

"She didn't specify him, no," Tom admitted, setting the box on the end of the bar counter and gesturing toward Agnes. "But I've suspected it before. Especially after she shot Connolly, and the two of them were on the run together..." Tom trailed off, and shook his head. He sighed, and smiled a little strangely. "No wonder he hated all those _daddy_  comments I used to make."

"Tom," Dembe frowned, chiding him, and Tom shrugged again.

"I'm packing up. If you're taking her to the office then take her." He stepped around toward the hallway, hesitating and glancing toward the carrier once more. "I already said goodbye." He eventually said, and disappeared down the hall.

Samar and Dembe shared another look before they both started moving again; Dembe picked up Agnes' carrier and Samar the diaper bag that had been sitting on the recliner. Glancing inside to confirm all the necessities were there, she nodded to Dembe and the three of them quietly slipped out of the apartment.

Samar didn't say a word on the way back to the Post Office, though she had a lot of questions mulling around inside of her head.

Dembe didn't say anything, either.  
  


\----------


	2. Chapter 2

"Number Nine, Josef Bishop, age forty-five, works at a shipping dock facility in Virginia. According to Reddington he's amassed himself quite the illegal trafficking business that includes just about anything you could think of. If you have something that needs shipped and you have the money to pay him, then he will ship it." Liz explained to the team, pulling up the one photo they'd been able to find on the man; his ID card for the docks.

"This guy is connected to half our database!" Ressler exclaimed, embellishing it quite a bit, though Josef did have a lot of known criminals on his billing list.

"How did you get this?" Aram wondered of Red, scrolling through that list. Red gave them a half-innocent, half- 'are you dull' expression.

"He's shipped for you." Samar figured knowingly.

"He's shipped _me_." Red replied, pointedly turning his gaze toward Liz. "And you."

Liz knew that she was probably making a weird face right now, and she tried to hide it by rolling her eyes and turning back toward the large screen. It helped hide her embarrassment, too.

"That shipping container we found," Ressler remembered, "while you were on the run. That was his?"

"It was nice, wasn't it?" Red smiled and sighed. "I miss that one."

" _Anyway_ ," Liz butted in, trying to veer the conversation away from that and back onto the Blacklister himself, "He's been clocking in and out for work every day this week so far, and if we leave soon I think we can catch him during his shift tomorrow."

"You think he's doing all this on the clock?" Ressler wondered. "How has he not been caught, yet?"

"Because he's very good. Why do you think I'd hired him?" Red replied pointedly, and Ressler pursed his lips. "He waits to transport his live cargo after-hours, but it doesn't matter what we'll catch him with specifically. It's always something of high value and usually very illegal."

"We? Are you actually working _with_  us, this time?" Ressler verbally jabbed, and Red gave him a look as if he were being obstinate.

"Of course, Donald. Or would you rather I ring him up and let him know he's going to be having new friends ringing at his doorstep very soon?"

"Okay, boys," Liz interjected, rolling her eyes, "I'm going to get Cooper and update him on the situation. Don't make me put you in timeout while I'm gone."

Aram grinned down at his desk, and Ressler snorted and shook his head, relaxing. Red, on the other hand, gave Liz a little smile as he taunted,

"Are you going to spank me if I misbehave?"

Knowing that he was deliberately being suggestive just to make her uncomfortable, Liz returned the same glint in her own eyes as she said,

"Shall I bend you over my knee right now?"

Red's eyebrows lifted high in surprise at her comment, and Ressler laughed.

"There's a news article for you! 'The Concierge of Crime Has Been Grounded'," He said, then laughed again.

Liz ignored him, ignored the nerves fluttering in her chest as she refused to bow down from Red's stare. She was determined to win this verbal sparring match, even though she knew that it meant she had something coming for her later on.

A few beats later, she did win - his grin widening just slightly first, Red then looked down at his hat and spun it between his fingers.

Liz then turned away and sauntered up the stairs toward Cooper's office, mentally pumping her fist in the air with success, a definite jaunt in her gait as she hopped the steps.

She could feel Red's eyes burning between her shoulder-blades as she moved away, but she didn't give him (or herself, to be honest) the satisfaction of looking back.  
  


\----------

 

 

"It's good to see that the two of you aren't at each other's throats anymore," Samar mentioned casually, leaning against the opening of Liz's office as Liz lifted Agnes up high and then settled her against her hip.

"We had a long talk." Liz admitted, something behind her eyes telling Samar that there was a whole lot more to that. "Came to an agreement about some things."

"Well," Samar smiled gently, "In any case. You make a good team." Liz raised her eyebrow dubiously, but didn't say anything in response to that, instead making a funny face to get her daughter to laugh. "When was that, by the way? When you were using Bishop's container. About a year and a half ago? Two years?" Samar wondered suddenly.

"Somewhere around then," Liz replied distractedly, looking for the hard toy Agnes liked the most. She'd started putting things she found interesting in her mouth, so Liz figured the stuffed toy could wait until nap time lest it get soggy with baby drool. "Why?"

"Oh, just curious."

Liz gave her a sideways look for a moment, quickly focusing back on her daughter though, and Samar slipped away before Liz could press her any further.

Liz wanted to put Agnes down for her nap before leaving for the op, so she started humming under her breath, dancing slowly and gently with her daughter.

Agnes laughed, delighted, watching Liz's smile for a moment, before tucking her head against Liz's shoulder. Liz closed her eyes as she continued humming, gently stroking her fingers through Agnes' hair in a calming fashion. This gesture often put Agnes to sleep quicker than anything else.

"One dance led up to another, and now I can't let you go," Liz sung quietly, holding Agnes a little more snugly in her arms. She felt her daughter relax more completely, and the tiny hand grasping onto the back of her shoulder loosened. Liz hummed a few more verses before she opened her eyes and approached the carrier that was tucked into the corner near her desk. It was dark enough and quiet enough here that Agnes shouldn't be disturbed, and the others knew to keep an ear out for her should she wake up before Liz returned.

When her daughter was tucked in and settled with her penguin toy in arm, Liz stood straight and turned toward the door, visibly jumping when she realized Reddington was standing there.

He was leaning against the door jamb with a soft smile on his face, as if he'd been standing there watching her for a while.

"Jesus, Red," Liz hissed, grabbing her coat before slipping out of the office, pulling Red with her. "How long were you standing there?" For some reason she felt vaguely embarrassed that he'd caught her in such a tender moment. He didn't seem bothered by her manhandling the front of his vest, though.

"I'm sorry if I startled you," Red said meaningfully, looking at her as he continued, "I just found myself...mesmerized."

Liz hesitated, warily eyeing the way he was smiling at her.

She realized her hand was still grasping the front of his clothing, and she quickly let him go.

"You tell anyone that I was singing in my office and I will tell everyone that you sing Frozen in your sleep." She threatened, and Red's eyes glittered with excitement.

"But then you'll have to explain why it is you are around while I'm sleeping, Elizabeth."

"We," She glared at him, "while we were on the run! It - just, come on, before you wake her up," She grumbled, walking purposefully away from him.

Grinning in success, he followed after her, whistling The Anniversary Waltz.  
  


\----------

 

 

Reddington had always been a very tactile person. She recalled that, knew that, now.

She should have remembered that before, back in that empty container, after he'd found her.

After she'd been kidnapped and in Josef Bishop's hands for a day and a half.

Yelling at Red, flinching away from him, insisting he not touch her - these were some of the worst things she could ever say to that man. And she knew it.

Why hadn't she remembered it then?

Now she was laying in a hospital bed inside of one of his many storage units, alone save for a bouquet of flowers from Aram. Baz was guarding her door, and she could hear Dembe's soft tones mingling with his, which meant that Red was nearby.

He wasn't in the room, though, which was unlike him.

Her earlier cry of terror echoed inside of her head, now. Accusing her. He hadn't deserved that. He'd just saved her life.

"Baz!" Liz called out, attempting to sit up against the mound of pillows, wincing as her cracked ribs protested.

The bodyguard immediately poked his head through the curtains, alert.

"Send him in," She requested, trying to hide her expression of pain. Baz furrowed his brow, pushing the curtain open just a little further as he started to step into the room. "I'm fine," Liz insisted quickly, then added, "I can hear Dembe outside. I know he's here. Send him in."

"You should rest," Baz told her gently, his expression softening a little. He wasn't pitying her, not directly anyhow - he was beating himself up about the fact that he hadn't protected her. Liz wondered if he'd already gotten an earful from Red, yet.

"Tell him to get in here!" Liz ordered, and Baz held his hand up and nodded at her.

"Okay, okay, just stay still, alright? Don't make your injuries worse." Baz waited until she settled again, and turned away. "He's already going to kill me once he sees you now," Baz muttered under his breath, and Liz frowned, gingerly reaching her fingers up to touch her face.

"Ah!" She hissed quietly, her nose quite tender. Her right cheekbone was also fairly sore, as was the left side of her jaw.

She didn't have a mirror handy, but if these tender spots were bruised as bad as they felt, then she probably looked like a mess. There were butterfly bandages over her nose and right brow, as well. Eyes widening, Liz realized that she would look worse now than she may have when Red had first found her.

There was nothing she could do about it, though, because two hands were reaching through the curtains to push them apart, one holding a black fedora.

Red had always been a tactile man, and that was why as soon as his eyes landed on her face, she reached her hand out toward the side of the bed.

His lips parted and he blinked once before he approached her; his only tells of his surprise.

"So what was worse? All the blood, or all the damage that it had been covering up?" Liz tried to joke as his hand slipped into hers.

His hard gaze roved over her face, taking in every single scratch, every mar in the natural color of her face. He glanced down once toward the bandages wrapped around her torso, before returning to her face, and his hand shook inside of hers.

It wasn't fear - it was anger. She recognized that look of blood-thirst in his eyes.

"Reddington," She squeezed his hand tightly, "thank you," she told him meaningfully, and his expression softened somewhat. She repeated her thanks, rubbing her thumb across his knuckles.

"How are you feeling?" He murmured, setting his hat on the bed beside her feet.

"Sore," She admitted, and when he started to look concerned again, she squeezed his hand again. "But alive. I'm alive." She tugged, urging him to stand closer to the head of the bed, and pressed his palm gently against the side of her face, as much pressure as she could endure.

She couldn't endure much, but that was okay, because his touch was as light as a feather. She slid her hand down to his wrist, before letting go of him entirely.

Using just his fingertips, his hand ghosted over her face, as if he were a blind man taking in her features. She closed her eyes when his fingers brushed across her eyelashes, kept them closed as he continued across and down the other side of her face.

She felt the mattress dip slightly next to her pillow, then his breath against her forehead, just before his lips touched her skin. He pressed his lips against her hairline in a long kiss, breathing in slowly and deeply.

She could literally feel the angry tension leave his body, and she remembered the times before when he had held her, used her as his grounding point.

Before he pulled away she rested her hands against his cheeks, titling his head down so their foreheads touched. When she opened her eyes, his were closed.

"Raymond," She whispered, watching how his mouth parted slightly. He didn't say anything, though, nor did he open his eyes or move away from her. "He's in custody, and I'm okay."

She felt his right hand clench the bed sheet next to her shoulder.

"You're not okay," He almost growled, and she ran her thumbs along his cheekbones. "He knew who you are, who you are to me - that's why he took you. That's why he hurt you."  
Red blamed himself.

"It's just some bruising, Red," She soothed him, "He hurt me. He did not break me."

He leaned away from her just until his weight-bearing arm was straightened, and with his free hand he touched the wraps over her ribs.

"Okay," She rescinded, chuckling a little, then wincing.

"You should get some more pain meds," Red announced, pulling away further and standing straight. "I'll get the doctor,"

"Red," Liz grabbed his fingertips before he could walk out of reach. "Come back?"

"Okay," He promised softly, smiling gently down at her. She smiled back, hesitantly, a little embarrassed that she'd sounded so desperate for a moment, but he squeezed his fingers around hers in encouragement before he slipped out of the room.

The doctor came in a moment later, but Red did not, not immediately. Liz heard snippets of conversation through the curtains while the doctor prepared her drip bag.

"In custody... at the Post Office... questioning... no way... they won't... that's exactly why... you know..."

Dembe was speaking some sense into Red, it sounded like, and God bless him for that.

"I'll give you your first dose, but monitor your intake very closely, all right? If this level of pain comes back, you can have another dose in four hours."

She didn't know who this doctor was, but he spoke very clearly and efficiently, and without making her feel like she was a child.

By the time Red came back in, she was already starting to feel the effects of the medicine; her eyes half-closed and vision unfocused.

"Lizzie, I'm here," Red whispered, settling in a chair near her bed. His hand slipped into hers and she turned her head toward him.

He'd removed his jacket and tie, unbuttoning his collar and leaving it open, clearly planning on settling in for a bit. That made her smile, and she knew she probably looked dopey right now, but she didn't mind.

"Tell me about... a boat." She requested, and he laughed quietly.

"Hmm, which one?" He mused for a moment. "Ah! Alright. Have I told you about Bar Harbor, in Maine? A friend of mine used to take me deep sea fishing, there, on the few days a year we weren't getting our asses kicked in boot camp,"

His fingers threaded through hers, and she soon fell asleep as he continued to weave his tale of ridiculous adventure.  
  


\----------

 

 

"Good to have you back, Keen." Ressler greeted Liz with a smile as she stepped out of the elevator.

"Agent Keen!" Aram gushed, hopping out of his seat and hurrying toward her, reaching for a hug.

"Easy," She warned just before he reached her, "Easy," She laughed against his shoulder as he loosened his hold significantly.

"Sorry, sorry," He apologized quickly, pulling away from her and giving her a once-over. "How are you?"

"Ribs are just a little sore, still. I'm good." Liz assured him, and his worried look relaxed into a smile. "C'mon guys, I was only holed up in bed for a couple days," She joked.

With a knowing smile, Ressler held his fist out toward her, which she tapped with her own. He'd had his own share of cracked, bruised, and broken ribs.

"Reddington didn't set you up with your own bodyguard?" Ressler teased, looking behind her toward the elevator as if he expected someone else to walk out of it. "I'm surprised."

Liz made a face at him, but before she could say anything in retort, Cooper approached from his office.

"Agent Keen, how are you feeling?" He greeted kindly, offering her a small smile.

"Better, sir, thank you."

"Where's Reddington?" Cooper wondered with surprise, and Liz frowned slightly.

"I don't know." She paused for a beat, and no one said anything. "Should I?"

"I suppose not; I'm just surprised he's let you out of his sight," Cooper explained, and Liz breathed out a huff of air in annoyance.

"Bishop is in custody, and I'm not completely inept, you know." Liz pointed out hotly.

"Ah, yes," Cooper jumped on that, "about that. As soon as you're healed up, I want you to start some training courses,"

"Excuse me?" She blurted in surprise, and he gave her a look.

"Might I remind you that Reddington had you pulled out of Quantico early? You're self-defense skills may be of higher par than the general public, Agent Keen, but they are not at the level they should be. I'm making this mandatory. You aren't cleared for field duty until you complete at least two levels of training."

"Two?" She repeated incredulously. That would take weeks. He pursed his lips.

"I'll reevaluate after one," He amended, and she pressed her eyes closed for a moment as she inwardly groaned.

"Come on, Keen, it's not that bad. We all have to take a class every couple of years, anyway. Keep up to date on our requirements." Ressler consoled, though he was smiling in a particular way that made her narrow her eyes.

"Your training officer is Greg Banaghan. I'll email you the necessary information, but you'll be meeting at a public training center downtown."

"I'm training with civilians? Then why don't I just sign up some place on my own?"

"Because you aren't training with them, per se - you'll be using the class as a cover." Cooper informed her. "We've already worked out an agreement with the owner of the facility." Cooper offered her a gentle smile. "You're a quick learner, you'll be fit for field duty in no time, I'm sure."

He walked away before she could say anything else, and she sighed deeply, knowing deep down that he'd been right. Yeah, she certainly wasn't completely inept at self-defense, but she was finding herself injured and/or kidnapped rather often. Especially by the criminals that still assumed (correctly) that she was working with Raymond Reddington.

"And hey, I'm up for my reevaluation soon anyway, so we may spar up every now and then, who knows?" Ressler's particular grin widened, and Liz frowned at him. "Banaghan was my S.O. at Quantico. He's a tough son of a bitch, but he's one of the best."

"Great." Liz replied dryly.  
  


\----------

 

 

"Jesus, Ressler, do you remember _nothing_  from basic training?" The heavy Scottish dialect chided as Liz managed to, on her back, get her legs locked around Ressler's neck in a chokehold.

Ressler grunted and tapped Liz's knee, and she dropped her feet flat on the ground on either side of him. Ressler kept his hands planted on the floor at either side of her waist, catching his breath, as she grinned victoriously up at him.

"My, my - when Jones informed me that you were spending your office hours with your legs wrapped around our dear Donald here, I simply couldn't believe it." Reddington's amused tone floated over them, and Ressler immediately sat back on his haunches, giving Liz room to push herself up onto the palms of her hands.

"Christ, what are you doing here?!" Ressler hissed, glancing around the room. The kickboxing class currently going on wasn't paying any attention to them, thankfully. "Someone could recognize you!"

"Dressed like this? Hardly." Red said, laughing gaily. Liz looked him up and down, more than a bit surprised by his state of dress; workout pants, tennis shoes, and a sweatshirt with the hoodie pulled up over his head. His sunglasses hid his eyes, but Liz could still read the quirk at the corner of his lips, and she frowned deeply at him as she brushed sweaty bangs away from her eyes.

"Jones?" She questioned pointedly, and Red gestured vaguely toward the class at the front of the room. Liz sighed tiredly, shaking her head slowly at him.

"He has someone following you?" Ressler wondered incredulously, toward Liz.

"There comes a point where it just wastes time arguing with him," Liz shrugged, and Ressler raised his eyebrows in further surprise at her acceptance.

"Who are you? This is a private session," Banaghan started, peering suspiciously at Red. Red had pushed his sunglasses down his nose for a moment, looking at Liz over them, but he pushed them back up before turning toward the training officer.

"I work with them," He jutted his thumb toward the two on the floor, "I'm afraid I'm here for Elizabeth. Something important has just come up,"

"I haven't cleared her for field duty yet," Banaghan narrowed his eyes, and Red smiled disarmingly.

"We're just in need of her profiling skills." He assured. Banaghan hesitated, and then glanced toward Ressler.

"You need him, too?"

"Oh, no," Red chuckled lightly, "he can finish today's session. I just need Agent Keen."

"Come on," Ressler complained as Red approached and held his hand out to help Liz to her feet.

"Alright, but we're making up the missed time, Keen." Banaghan warned, and Liz nodded dutifully, fighting off the smirk she wanted to send Ressler. "Let's hit the bags, Ressler!" Banaghan ordered, and Liz's partner got to his feet, sending the other two a dirty look before doing as asked.

Liz grabbed her bag and gestured for Red to lead the way.

Those pants made his ass look pretty great. She jerked her eyes up toward the kickboxing class, watching their form instead of the man walking ahead of her, redirecting her thoughts quickly.

She wondered, not for the first time, if any of them had been warned about ignoring her. Not once has any of them yet even looked curiously toward the back of the room, at least not that she's noticed. It was as if she, Banaghan, or Ressler were never there - and even Red's presence didn't sway them.

"So what do we got?" Liz asked once they were outside on the sidewalk. She tilted her head up toward the bright sunlight, soaking in the warmth for a moment.

Red didn't answer at first, and she opened her eyes to look at him. He was staring at her, a fond smile on his face, and she raised an eyebrow at him.

"Is that heavy?" He inquired of the small duffel in her hand, and she shook her head. "Alright. Come along!" He placed his hand on her elbow and guided her further down the sidewalk.

"Where are we going?" She asked with tired, mild amusement. Not so long ago, she probably would've fussed at him and ordered him to take her to the office. But it was a nice day outside, and she had an inkling that his 'important thing' had nothing to do with the office in the first place.

"There's this _great_  little yogurt place just about ten minutes from here. It's tucked away inside this tiny little building and the owners are just adorable,"

"The man who easily spends a hundred dollars on a bottle of wine likes frozen yogurt?" Liz wondered, and Red gave her an imploring look as he slipped his elbow around hers, as if walking arm-in-arm with her was completely normal.

"Don't tell anyone," He requested, and she managed to look away before she smiled.


	3. Chapter 3

"We've simply got to stop meeting this way," Red joked once Liz appeared in the doorway. He never tired of watching her walk into a room. At least this time he knew she wasn't putting herself into much direct danger by rescuing him.

"I ought to just leave you tied up," She teased him, slipping her weapon back into it's holster as she propped her hands on her hips, grinning at him. She looked full of worried exhaustion, behind that pleased glint in her eye.

"I'll let you tie me up any day, sweetheart," Red replied truthfully, "but perhaps another time? My shoulders are already awfully sore,"

She approached him slowly, and he held his breath. The look in her eyes made him distinctly aware that they were alone in the room, that the rope holding his wrists together behind him was just as secure as the rope that tied each of his ankles to the legs of the chair he was occupying.

Joking aside, he was always aroused by her saving the day. If she kept this teasing conversation in the direction it was going, he would be a little more than _mildly_  aroused. And he wouldn't be able to hide it, not in these trousers.

Her hands landed on his shoulders, and he breathed in deeply, unable to hold his breath any longer.

"Is that a promise?" She inquired quietly, her eyes slightly narrowed, one leg moving forward enough that her knee brushed against the inside of his thigh. He felt his lips part as sharp heat travelled from that point of contact upward, making both his chest and his cock ache with want.

"Lizzie," He growled lowly, warning, and she smiled slowly, leaning down, her face getting closer and closer to his own. He breathed shallowly, equally parts terrified and hopeful that she were about to kiss him. Just before their noses touched, her hands slipped around him and down his arms, untying the knots at his wrists.

His hands fell free, but he didn't dare move. Her breath brushed against his lips, and though this wasn't the first time they've been this close, the circumstances this time were so much different.

For one, they were still very much alone.

She turned her head slightly, the tip of her nose now just barely sliding against his own, and he closed his eyes as he breathed her in.

He felt her move away, and he opened his eyes again to see her crouch down, one hand on his knee, to untie each of his ankles. His pulse raced as he watched her perform her duties of rescue, and when she stood up once more, he looked up at her, unable to keep the half-grin from forming on his lips.

He knew that she could tell he was aroused, regardless of the state of his trousers. There were other signs, and he wasn't bothering to hide them from her at all, not this time.

"As you said," She mused calmly, "perhaps another time." She tossed the scraps of rope into his lap and sauntered out of the room, calling to her partner that Reddington had been found and was fine.

Red dropped his chin toward his chest, staring hard at the empty doorway, his grin taking on a shark-like quality. He stood, one hand grasping the cords of rope, the other adjusting his trousers before one of the other agents walked in.  
  


\----------

 

 

"You've got to stop pulling me from my classes early!" Liz scolded Red as the two of them stood on either side of his car. "It's your damn fault I've got to take them, anyway."

She slid into the car and folded her arms across her chest, and Red raised an eyebrow slightly before getting in the car much more gracefully. He waited for a moment, then began evenly,

"I have a name for you,"

"It could have waited until after I was finished." She interrupted, still annoyed. "It doesn't matter if I only miss the last ten scheduled minutes - he makes me make up an entire session later on."

"Well," Red rolled his eyes, "If I had known you enjoyed rolling around on the floor with Ressler this much, of course I wouldn't have interrupted."

"We're training." She stared at him pointedly, then narrowed her eyes. "You keep bringing that up. Are you _jealous_?"

"Of course not." He scoffed. "You know I consider jealousy a base emotion,"

"Are you kidding me?" She went on, not believing him an ounce. "The longer these lessons go unfinished, the longer I'm stuck in the office - and the more likely it is I'll be sparring with Ressler far more often than originally necessary."

"Well at least when you're in the office, I don't have to worry about you getting shot." He returned, trying not to think too much about her pouncing on his exact annoyance about Ressler and using it against him.

"I'm more likely to get shot if I keep galavanting around the city with you!"

"Dembe, would you give us a moment, please?" Red requested of his number one man, and Dembe turned back toward Liz.

"You don't have any pens in your purse, do you?" Dembe asked her, and she managed to give him a small smile. He wasn't the one who frustrated her, after all, and the idea of stabbing Red with a pen again always amused her.

"No pens." She promised, and Dembe nodded once before turning back round front and getting out of the driver's seat, gently shutting the car door behind him.

Red watched Dembe move toward the coffeeshop two doors down, before turning toward Liz. She was facing him, sitting sideways in her seat, glaring with narrowed eyes. She simply blinked at him, watching him, and it wasn't long until he grew uncomfortable with the silence.

"Did you eat this morning? Perhaps I should ask him to pick up a danish," Red suggested, twisting and reaching for the door-handle.

Liz reached across him and held it closed before he could open it, and he turned his head back toward her.

"Lizzie," He began to chide, but then her lips brushed against his, so brief that he was sure he imagined it.

Except her hand was still resting on his door, and her breath was against his face, and she had this determined but unsure expression.

"I thought we were fighting," He wondered gently, swallowing hard. It hadn't even been enough of a kiss for him to really know what her lips felt like, and he desperately wanted to feel them again.

"Shut up," She muttered, tilting her chin up so that her lips just barely - even less so than before - touched his own.

He leaned forward, following after the touch, and she stopped pulling away, letting him make contact. He kissed her slowly, lightly, moving his hand up to trail his fingers along the line of her neck. She deepened the kiss, just for a moment, before tilting her head away again.

She was gauging his response, seeing if he was alright with this. Oh, how could she not know?

"Don't tease me, Lizzie." He warned, looking deeply into her eyes. He knew that she wasn't, but he also knew that his tone would cause some sort of reaction in her. "Not with this."

Shifting closer to him in the backseat, she pressed both of her hands against either side of his face before leaning into him again. This time her mouth was determined, insistent, and he slid down in his seat slightly as he pulled her half on top of him, opening his mouth under hers. His other hand slid around her waist, moving just beneath the hem of her blouse and pressing against the warm skin of her back.

He moaned. He couldn't help it; he was mess, she turned him into a mess, and now one of her hands was sliding down the front of his shirt.

"Lizzie," He cleared his throat, the hand that had been resting against the softness of her neck now snatching at her wayward fingers.

Her eyes focused on his, and he was pleased to find she was just as out of breath as he was. The fire that had been in her eyes while they'd argued was still there, though mixed with something else now. She was magnificent.

She grinned a little apologetically, and he released her hand, letting her smooth the wrinkled fabric before she sat up a little straighter, moving off of him. His hand slipped away from her back, though he did so slowly, trailing the side of his thumb against her skin, making her flinch slightly and laugh.

As if in retaliation to the tickle, she grasped his jaw in her hand and leaned forward quickly, giving him another hard kiss before sliding all the way back into her own seat again, shifting her knees forward and straightening her blouse.

"You should probably let Dembe know we're ready to leave." She told him, running her fingers through her hair. Red stayed how he was, slouched in his seat, head lolled over to look at her. "Wherever the hell it is we're going today."

"I don't think that I am ready to leave," He replied, looking at her lips. The corners of them twitched upward slightly.

"I probably shouldn't have done that just now," She admitted, mildly apologetic, and he shook his head at her.

"No, you definitely should have done that just now." He insisted, leaning onto his elbow across the seat. "Otherwise we would have continued on arguing, and who knows if Dembe has left any writing utensils in the glove compartment?"

"I'm serious about you interrupting my training sessions." She informed him, giving him a look, ignoring the pen jibe. "You wouldn't have to worry about my safety so much if you would just let me learn new ways to defend myself."

"But must it be with _Ressler_?" Red sighed, turning his head to look out the window.

"Oh, would you rather I roll around on the floor with _you_?" She snorted, and he yanked his gaze back in her direction, giving her a warning look.

Dembe knocked on the driver's side window before opening the door, making both of them look quickly in his direction.

"Oh good, I was worried about having to clean blood off the upholstery." He muttered as he got in the car, seeing that they hadn't killed one another. He tossed a white paper bag into the backseat. "Here, I've bought you both danishes." He started up the car, muttering something under his breath about "hungry" and "cranky".

Red immediately reached for the bag and opened it, deeply breathing in the smells of the warm pastries. He held the bag toward Liz, who pursed her lips at him for a moment before giving in and snatching one out of the bag. He pushed himself up into a more normal sitting position, smiling as he peered back into the bag in search of his own treat.

The danishes tasted good, but not as good as her mouth, and he spent the rest of the ride to the Post Office preoccupied with strategies on how not to be distracted by her for the remainder of the day. They really did have a new Blacklister. He needed to focus.


	4. Chapter 4

As soon as the elevator doors opened, Liz angrily limped her way toward one of the empty desks in the war room.

"What happened?" Aram jumped up out of his seat, spying the bloodied cloth in her hands and more of it smeared on her knee and shin.

"Like a cheetah catching it's gazelle," Red began artfully.

"Shut up," Liz interrupted him, not for the first time, and that was apparent in her tone. Grimacing, she sat in one of the chairs and waved distractedly toward Aram as she pulled her shorts up a little higher on her thigh. "Get me the first aid, will you? It's just a scratch."

"Did you catch him?" Aram asked as he quickly did as she asked. "I mean," He amended, glancing toward Red for a moment, who had followed Liz and was now standing in front of her, putting his hat on the desk and rolling up the sleeves of his shirt. "I guess you caught him,"

"Agent Ressler is bringing him down. He was a bit... irate. I suggested he and Liz ride separately in the elevator." Red explained, his focus on Liz's knee.

He squatted down so he was more face-level with the injury and reached out to touch it, but Liz swatted his hand away. He gave her a look and wrapped his left hand around the back of her calf, taking the cloth from her with his right and dabbing it around the edges of her wound.

"I caught him." Liz didn't smile, but her eyes were triumphant when she looked up toward Aram, who was now approaching with the box of first aid equipment.

Red got a little too close to the split skin with what used to be his handkerchief, and she hissed at the burn, her leg reflexively kicking out. His fingers tightened around her calf, keeping her from toeing him in the chest, and he looked up again to give her a warning look. She narrowed her eyes, opening her mouth to tell him just where he could shove that piece of fabric he held.

"Aram," Red interrupted her a little more loudly than necessary, probably knowing on some level what she had been about to say. "Peroxide would be great, or a handful of alcohol swabs, whatever's available. A clean towel, gauze, and tape as well."

"Sure, sure," Aram replied, having set down the box next to Red's hat and already begin perusing it.

The elevator door opened and noise immediately followed with it as Ressler yanked the struggling suspect toward the interrogation room.

"Fuck you! I ought to sue you!" The irate man yelled, having noticed Liz sitting at the desk. He had a gash on his forehead that was trickling blood down the corner of his eye. It would probably need stitches.

"Guess you shouldn't have run!" Liz called back, smiling when Ressler shook his head and pushed the guy forward. "Damn!" She hissed, looking back down at Red after he, without warning, started cleaning her cut with alcohol wipes.

"Sit still," He chided, and she clenched her teeth together as she held back a retort. She had to grudgingly admit (not out loud, obviously) that he was being fairly gentle with her. He'd cleared off the blood from her leg and cleaned the wound with an efficiency that experience taught.

"How is it?" Aram wondered, trying to peer over from the other side of the desk. "Stitches?"

"No," Red answered, sounding relieved by that. "But you'll probably need to change the dressing fairly soon. It's still oozing quite a bit." Cradling the back of her knee with his fingers, he used his thumbs to secure the padding in place and press the tape against her skin.

The movements of his hands slowed down, his touch softer and less diagnostic, and she felt very warm all of a sudden.

"Good, good. Here, I'll leave out some extras then," Aram replied, pulling out the box of gauze and roll of tape, tucking everything else reusable back into the kit and closing it up.

Red smoothed his thumbs against the tape on her knee, making sure the edges were all down, the pads of his other fingers pressing against the soft skin at the back of her knee. One of his hands slid downward, dragging his fingers along the curve of her calf.

She kicked at him again, blushing furiously as her skin tingled, and he grunted as her foot made contact.

The wayward hand then wrapped around her ankle as he narrowed his eyes at her, giving her another warning look. She returned his expression pointedly - it was his own fault.

The hand still on her knee went a different route; moving even slower, up the inside of her thigh. They watched one another, both challenging how far the other would push.

He didn't get very far - before he even reached the raised hem of her shorts she slapped his hand away, jerking her gaze up toward the rest of the room, making sure no one saw what he was doing.

"If you don't stop running your hands over my leg I will kick you in the face." She hissed down at him quickly, deadly serious in her warning.

Aram didn't hear her, but he did catch the look she was giving Reddington.

"You alright? Need me to go grab some pain meds from the kit?" Aram wondered, jerking his thumb back toward where he'd just returned the first aid box.

"Just making sure I didn't miss any cuts or scratches," Red announced pleasantly, putting a hand on the desk to push himself back up into standing position.

His hand closest to her drifted out, the backs of his fingers brushing against her thigh, the gesture outwardly appearing as accidental.

She narrowed her eyes at him and slid off of the chair, standing up, forcing him to take a step away from her and out of her space.

"Keen, you good? Want a crack at him?" Ressler poked his head out of the interrogation room, and Liz grinned over at him.

"I think I've already had a crack at him, have I not?" She joked, and her partner returned the grin, nodding and disappearing back behind the closed door. She turned back toward Red, her expression now serious. "My office. Now."  
  


\----------

 

 

"What the hell do you think - !"

"Do try to keep quiet, my dear. We wouldn't want to get caught." Red interrupted, shutting the door behind him as he followed her into the office. She whirled around and stared at him, mouth open in indignation.

"Get caught?!" She repeated incredulously, and he just smiled as he stepped closer to her. "What are you - what do you think you're doing?" She demanded a little breathlessly as he continued his approach and she bumped back into the edge of her desk.

"You've always had such lovely skin," He murmured, "but I think the pregnancy has benefited you well," As if in point, he gently touched his fingers against the exposed skin of her thigh beneath her shorts. "So soft," He sighed, eyes cast downward, not catching the quick shift of multiple expressions on her face.

"Are you insane?" She hissed, her fingers curling around the edge of her desk as she watched him crouch down in front of her. He pressed his nose against the inside of her uninjured knee and breathed in, before nuzzling her and leaning his cheek against her knee.

Fuck, but Raymond Reddington dropping to his knees in front of her was the hottest thing she's ever experienced. And this was the _second_  time he's done it.

Quite suddenly she found herself not caring where they were, either, and her own traitorous fingers were sliding against his cropped hair, nails scraping gently against his scalp.

He hummed, pleased, the sound reverberating against her skin.

Her other hand tightened it's grip on her desk.

"Red," She breathed, her tone not nearly as negative, now, and she glanced warily toward the windows of her office. They were far enough away from them that the angle did not provide a view of them from the floor below, but still, there were no blinds in here.

He pressed his lips against the side of her knee, then dragged them an inch or so up her thigh, giving her long and slow kisses as he continued to breathe in deeply through his nose.

After a second, she realized that he was probably smelling her arousal, considering the distance that he was closing between his face and the juncture of her legs. She felt her face grow warm with a mixture of embarrassment and further arousal, and she bit her lip as she squirmed a little, but she didn't push him away.

He used a hand to push up the edge of her shorts further, and then pressed his tongue flat against the skin he'd just revealed.

"Oh, fuck," She groaned quietly. His mouth was hot and wet and while she didn't have much to compare it to she was pretty sure he'd be pretty great at third base.

He scooted closer, putting his hands atop hers on the edge of the desk, resting his forehead against her abdomen.

"You smell so good," He moaned into her crotch, and she let out a shaky breath as she realized she was already on the edge of a small orgasm.

"Uh," She didn't know what to say in response to that, too distracted trying to calm her body down a bit. He nuzzled against her again and she whined a little, her hips shifting forward as she let the tiny wave wash over her.

It may not have rough or powerful, but it still felt good, and she sighed as she relaxed a bit, loosening her death grip on her desk.

Red leaned back on his haunches, looking up at her with some surprise, though he was also clearly very pleased. He shifted his hands to her waist, rubbing his thumbs against the fabric of her shirt. They looked at one another for a long moment.

"You need to get up off of the floor," she advised him, "before somebody walks in here."

His lips parted but he didn't say anything, holding their eye contact as he stood up.

She recognized that look in his eyes. This wasn't the first time he's looked at her this way. But she couldn't hear him say it, not right now, anyway. Not here.

She set her palm against his cheek, and he tilted his head slightly to lean into the touch.

"Let me know what you get out of our friend in the interrogation room?" He eventually requested, taking a deep breath and stepping back from her.

"Of course," She nodded, brushing her hair behind her ear. Damn, now she was acting nervous. He smiled as if he found that endearing, and he reached out and grasped her hand, pressing his lips against the backs of her fingers. He raised his eyebrow just a bit, coy, before he released her hand and moved another step away.

"We'll continue this conversation later, Elizabeth." Red announced sternly, as if they'd been discussing something serious, and Liz looked over his shoulder to see Samar standing at the door, her fist raised as if she were about to knock. How Red had known that she was behind him was beyond Liz.

"Okay." She replied dumbly, and then pursed her lips at the twinkle in his eye.

He opened the door and greeted Samar pleasantly before disappearing, and Samar followed his exit for a moment before turning her questioning gaze toward Liz.

"Were you two fighting again?" She wondered as she entered the office.

Liz shook her head and moved around her desk, sitting in her chair behind it.

Red's moan echoed in her ears, and she chewed on the inside of her cheek as she tried to focus on the task at hand.

"What do you need?"

"Follow-up on the Bishop case; I'm closing the file," Samar began, pulling a chair forward and sitting across from Liz.


	5. Chapter 5

Red walked into the war room to find Liz, Aram, and Samar all gathered behind Aram's computer screen, various containers of Chinese takeout strewn about the empty spaces on the desk. Samar had one in her hands that she was digging into with chopsticks as she stood just behind Aram's seat, and Liz was sitting in another desk chair next to him, a white container balanced precariously on her criss-crossed legs.

Whatever case they were working on, it looked like they'd been on it for a while. Liz had that exhausted, determined look of having pulled a few all-nighters on something she was very close to cracking.

The others may have looked that exhausted, too, but Red wasn't looking at them.

Liz glanced up, her expression slowly forming into a look of surprise as her chopsticks thunked into the bottom of her container. Then a smile slowly spread across her face, and Red immediately felt himself smile in response.

It had been almost two weeks, since 'the incident' in her office, since he's seen her face-to-face. His 'concierge' duties had taken the forefront for a while, and he had been jet-setting around three different continents for the past two weeks. He was exhausted too, for different reasons than the detectives, but he hadn't been able to keep himself from the Post Office once he and Dembe had returned to DC.

"Welcome back," Samar greeted him wryly, mild annoyance lacing her tone as she only spared him a glance before focusing back on whatever they were looking at on the computer.

"Mr. Reddington!" Aram's happiness was genuine, and Red couldn't help but send him a fond smile. His adoration was...cute. Like a puppy. An extremely smart, FBI agent, puppy.

"Good morn...well, actually I'm afraid I don't know what time it is." Red laughed lightly, glancing toward the wall that featured clocks set to various different time zones. "What zone are we in, now?"

"Been living on your plane lately, huh?" Liz teased quietly, knowing full well that's where he'd been, at least for the most part. She set her food on the desk and unfurled her legs from the chair, getting to her feet and meeting him on the other side of Aram's desk.

"It's, um," Aram glanced at his watch, "it's almost midnight, actually." He sighed, and pushed himself away from the desk slightly, turning a little toward Samar. "We should let this be for now. We all need some rest; we can finish looking at this with fresh eyes tomorrow."

Liz was disheveled and mildly grungy from long hours at work, her trousers and jacket rumpled, her hair haphazardly pulled back from her face.

Red thought she was beautiful.

Her hand bumped into his halfway in the air before he'd realized he'd moved, and she smiled hesitantly, nervously, as she grasped his hand and squeezed. She let it go, and then as if that action hadn't been enough, she also squeezed his elbow for a moment.

"You're right," She said to Aram. "Let's call it a night. I'll be in around nine tomorrow morning." She turned back toward Red, and lifted her chin at him. "Walk me to my car? Tell me about your trip."

"Of course," Red immediately took up her offer, his hand resting against her lower back as he guided her toward the elevator. "Though I won't tell you _everything_  about my trip; I _am_  the Concierge of Crime, after all." He joked, for the benefit of the other agents.

When they were alone, standing in the elevator as it slowly rose to surface-level, Liz surprised him yet again.

"Actually, do you want to stop by my apartment? I'd like to catch you up on this case we've been working on. You might be able to help..."

"We could discuss it in the morning," He suggested gently, wanting very much to go by her apartment tonight, but also concerned about her sleeping habits. As it was, he wouldn't be able to stay awake much longer tonight, himself.

"Of course, you're right." She replied immediately, and he blinked. She glanced at him, and added, "Just..."

The way she was looking at him, he couldn't say no to her.  
  


\----------

 

 

"I'd missed you more than I thought I would," Liz admitted, after they'd both finished their first glasses of wine and were each casually sipping at their second.

"I..." Red's mouth opened for a moment, but then closed again, his tongue rolling around as he considered what to say.

Liz was a bit embarrassed by the admission, of course, but she was also so exhausted, she just wanted him to know the truth.

"After everything that's happened?" She yawned, but kept on as if it was inconsequential. She'd gotten in the habit of ignoring her yawns for the past few days. "And especially after you were poisoned? I..." She sighed, and looked at him apologetically. "I know we've already talked about this, but, as much as I've tried not to - I care about you. I care about what happens to you, about what you do."

"I know," He murmured, gently swirling the wine in his glass as he stared down into it.

"And this case, it's dragged on and on and I've been awake for twice as many hours as usual... more hours that I have to spend trying not to worry about you." She looked at him hesitantly, afraid of his reaction.

"Lizzie, really, with my job - it's a waste of time to worry about me," He started, giving her a look, and she frowned at him.

"No it isn't. That implies that _you_  are a waste of time," She scolded him. "And it implies that my caring is a waste of time. We've been over this already, too. Remember?"

"I remember." He said, meeting her gaze. She'd heard him whisper her name that night; it still haunted her sometimes. She'd never brought it up with him, though.

"I don't want this to happen ever again," She informed him, curling her feet up onto the couch beneath her, turning her body so that she faced him. She pointed at him, and then at herself. "The distance between us? And I'm not talking about you flying across the world - you know what I mean. The anger. I don't care what happens in the future - I don't ever want that to happen again."

She'd already taken ownership in her part of it; the choices she'd made, the things she'd said to him. And he had as well, but, she wanted to reiterate the basic purpose of that previous conversation.

"I agree," He promised, his arm stretched along the back of the couch. His hand was close enough to touch her, and he did; curling his fingers around her shoulder. "Lizzie?"

"Yeah?" She inwardly smiled fondly at his nickname for her.

"I missed you too."

His gaze bore into hers, and she knew he was talking for more than just this recent two-week trip of his. She could do nothing to take away that haunted look in his eyes - he had seen her die. He had experienced what it was like to lose her.

She still wasn't quite certain of the depth of that, but it was apparent that it was far more than anything she'd expected back when she'd first made that plan.

And he'd stopped accepting her apologies about it ages ago. She didn't know what else to do, though, other than what they were doing right now.

"Why don't you tell me about this case of yours?" He suggested, his tone a little lighter as he took a sip of his wine, effectively diffusing the heaviness that had started to gather in the air.

So she did; she told him about the vague tip that Ressler had received while out at lunch one day, about how the follow-up had led to an old cold case of his, about how _that_  ended up being connected to a recent supposed murder-suicide, and about how they were now trying to discern the real murderer, since the murder-suicide was actually a double-murder that had been staged.

All of this involved a ridiculous amount of paperwork, and man-hours, and thus the lack of sleep the team has had for the past week.

At some point, she'd curled up beneath his outstretched arm, resting her head against his shoulder as they talked in soft tones. This wasn't the first time he's held her in some manner of comfort, but this was the first time she decided to fully accept just how _nice_  it felt. She felt like she just... fit, with him. (She always had felt that way, and that had been one of the things that scared her, that kept her putting walls up between them and flinging sharp words in his direction whenever she thought they were getting too close.)

She was tired of putting up those walls.

"You smell good, too." Liz murmured sleepily, then opened her eyes, realizing simultaneously that they had closed at some point, and that she'd just spoken aloud. Red laughed quietly, and she wondered what she'd been saying before her compliment.

Red's arm was curled around her now, his fingers combing slowly through her hair. Her eyes drifted closed again, and she promised herself just a few more moments like this.  
  


\----------

 

 

"Raymond? Raymond." Dembe's voice floated through his subconscious, and Red flinched just slightly as he jerked his eyes open. He immediately recognized having fallen asleep on a couch, however he at first did not recognize exactly which couch he'd fallen asleep on.

Or the person who'd fallen asleep on top of him.

Moving only his eyes, he silently glared up toward his friend, who was smirking pleasantly down at him.

"I've made coffee. There are two hours before Elizabeth has said she would meet with the rest of the team." Dembe informed him, keeping that damned grin on his face, unmoving as Red blinked up at him.

"Thank you." He eventually rumbled, his voice raspy with sleep. The body half on top of him - Liz, it was Liz, and if he thought about that too much he was afraid he would stop breathing again - grumbled and shifted slightly. Red swallowed and began contemplating how to get out from under her without startling her awake.

Dembe hadn't moved yet.

" _Okay_ , Dembe," Red hissed, narrowing his eyes. Dembe chuckled and disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.

Red knew he wouldn't be hearing the end of this one.

If he was careful, he could roll onto his right side and position Liz between himself and the back of the couch, and then hopefully sit up without waking her. He wanted her to get as much sleep as possible.

When he rolled over, however, she wrapped her arm tightly around his waist and snuggled her nose against his chest, practically trying to burrow into the fabric of his undershirt. He groaned quietly, squeezing his eyes closed. She would be the death of him.

He desperately wished he could just go back to sleep, and they could spend the whole day like this, cuddled together on her sofa....

He must have drifted for a moment, because the next thing he was aware of was Dembe's voice, murmuring softly. He must've been speaking into a phone.

"Perhaps in the afternoon? Yes, she is still asleep... she seemed quite exhausted last night." He paused, probably listening to whomever it was he was talking with. "I dropped her off at home, so she wouldn't have to drive. We stopped by early this morning to bring breakfast..." Dembe chuckled, and Red had the distinct feeling it was directed toward him. "Of course, you know how he is."

Eventually, Dembe walked back into the living room, his footsteps quiet. Red was only aware of his presence because he'd been looking for it.

"There's nothing wrong with breakfast, Dembe." Red muttered overtop Liz's hair, knowing without seeing that Dembe had a shit-eating grin on his face.

"Yes but _we_  don't cuddle with breakfast," Dembe pretended to complain, and Red pursed his lips with fond annoyance.

"Don't wake her up." Red threatened, and Dembe chuckled quietly.

"Yes, boss." He replied jovially, heading out of the room again. "You owe me," He called out in a loud whisper, and Red rotated his jaw.

If he continued laying here, though, he knew he would just go right back to sleep again. He carefully reached back and pried her hand from him, draping her arm against her own side. She didn't move, and he gently placed his hand against her hair, smoothing it away from her face.

He could watch her sleep for hours, but he knew that wouldn't be very productive either, so he heaved a quiet sigh and carefully rolled away from her, sitting up on the edge of the cushion.

"There better actually be breakfast." Liz muttered, startling Red and jerking his gaze down toward her.

Her eyes were closed, but she had the tiniest little smirk at the corners of her lips, and Red twisted a little more to the side so he could look at her more comfortably.

"I'm sorry if I woke you," He murmured, unable to keep from reaching out and push away a strand of hair that had fallen near her eyes. She blinked slowly, her gaze dragging upward until she met his eyes.

She just looked at him for a moment, and he couldn't tell what she was thinking. Soon enough she pushed herself up onto her elbow, and wrapped her fingers around the inside of his arm.

He leaned closer to her, thinking she was going to whisper something to him, but instead of at his ear, her lips touched the corner of his mouth. He looked at her in surprise, not having expected that.

"Sorry I fell asleep on you." She apologized, looking a little shy about it. He raised his eyebrows at her.

"I'm not," He replied, and she pushed herself up further into a more sitting position, tucking her hair behind her ear.

"This couch isn't the most comfortable piece of furniture to sleep on all night long," She pointed out, and he shrugged.

"I didn't notice."

She gave him a look like she didn't believe him, but he was being honest. Her eyes drifted down to his mouth, and he looked at her lips as well, noticing them part slightly. Her tongue darted out against her bottom lip for a moment, and he sure as hell couldn't ignore that.

Just as he started to lean toward her, though, Dembe strode back into the living room.

"Good, you're awake. I brought bagels." He announced casually, blinking at them as they both slowly turned to look at him. He had this stoic expression on his face as if nothing was out of the ordinary, and Red narrowed his eyes slightly at him.

"I should get dressed for work," Liz murmured, shifting her feet to the floor and sitting next to Red for a beat. She placed her hand on his arm and leaned in, giving him a lingering kiss on his cheek. "Thank you," She said even quieter before she pulled completely away, and then she was gone, leaving him feeling rather bereft.

When he looked back up at Dembe, the man was grinning. Red rolled his eyes at him and pushed himself up off of the couch.

"I've brought some of your things, as well," Dembe gestured his head toward the floor beside the couch, where a small duffel bag rested. Red nodded his thanks and reached for it, dropping it onto the couch and zipping it open.

"Do you remember Deacon?"

"The Master of Murder?" Dembe clarified, and Red pursed his lips in disgust and nodded.

"Such a horrible nickname. Sounds like something from a comic book," Red muttered as he pulled out the dress shirt and vest that Dembe had packed, examining them.

"Says the Concierge of Crime." Dembe pointed out, and Red looked at him sideways for a moment.

"Good choice," He gestured the clothing in his hand toward his friend, choosing to ignore the jibe on his own nickname. It's not like he'd asked people to start calling him that. Moving on, he spoke as he began to quickly slip out of yesterday's clothes and put on the fresh ones. "He's known for his proficiency with fake suicides, fake accidentals. He's been killing for years exactly because he doesn't have a set time schedule, and he's never left any room for doubt at each scene."

"You believe this person Elizabeth was talking about last night could be him?" Dembe asked, and Red nodded as he began tucking his dress shirt into his trousers.

"He could very well be losing his touch, growing bored - whatever the excuse, I think he's slipped up, and I think this may be him. Can you reach out and see if he's been back in the States lately?"

"We're going to help them with this?" Dembe asked, his tone a little quieter, and Red gave him a look.

"Yes." He replied simply, but the other man still hesitated.

"Deacon has been of great help to us in the past."

"So we'll have to be very careful and make sure he has no idea that we're the ones turning him in." Red returned, slipping his tie through the collar of his shirt.

"Of course." Dembe nodded. "I'll let you know what I find." He walked back into the kitchen as he pulled his phone out of his pocket.

"What's he looking for?" Liz asked, startling Red once again, and he looked up from his tie to see her standing at the entry of the hall. She looked him up and down, and smirked, and he curled his bare toes into the rug in an attempt to keep himself grounded.

"A better bagel place," Red replied, admiring her refreshed look for just a second before focusing back on his tie. "The one closest to your apartment is simply subpar."

He felt her approaching him but he didn't look back up, not until her hands covered his.

"Can I?" She requested, and he stopped tying the fabric, lifting his head to look at her.

He's not had a woman do this for him in a very long time. Not a woman that he...

He swallowed and lowered his hands, lifting his chin just slightly, giving her room to work. He kept his eyes on her, though, watching as her tongue darted out again when she concentrated on undoing the knot he had started, and beginning again.

She worked a little slowly, but methodically, her fingers brushing against his throat as she carefully secured the knot. She smoothed her hand against it, and took a half step back to admire her handiwork. It took her maybe ten seconds to do it, but it felt like a very long ten seconds.

"Good?" He wondered, touching the pads of his fingers against the knot, just to feel the residual heat there that her own touch had left.

"I think so," She grinned with just one side of her mouth. "I haven't actually done that in a while." She watched rather unabashedly as he slipped on his vest, and he raised his eyebrow. She let out a laugh that sounded a bit nervous, and then turned toward the kitchen. "I'm going to test these 'subpar' bagels out myself."

He tilted his head a little as he watched her walk away, and smiled.  
  


\----------

 

 

"Liz?"

"Hey, Samar," Liz greeted as she walked up to the other woman's desk. "Sorry I'm late," She began, but Samar smiled and shook her head.

"It's alright, we ended up catching a little more shut-eye, as well. We all probably needed it."

"We?" Liz repeated with a little grin, glancing toward Aram's desk, where he was clearing off the old takeout containers. When she looked back at Samar, she was giving her a very dry look.

"Don't even go there, Ms. 'he brought breakfast'," She returned, rolling her eyes and speaking sarcastically.

"It's hardly the first time Reddington's shown up on my doorstep with breakfast." Liz pointed out, frowning. She was frowning, not pouting. Frowning.

"Mhm," Samar replied dubiously, checking her phone for any messages. "So where is he?" She asked after Liz was silent.

"Working on his own thing," Liz shrugged. "He knows we have this case we're trying to finish up. I guess, unless something becomes urgent, he'll bring me our next 'Lister once we close this thing."

"That's considerate of him." Samar mused, as if that surprised her. Liz pursed her lips at her friend.

"He's _also_  probably doing something illegal and doesn't want us to know," Liz pointed out, confused as to why Samar looked amused at her words.

A small part of her, though, desperately wanted to confide in her friend that she'd woken up being cuddled by him this morning. Which, very bad idea. What the hell was wrong with her?

"Ready to get on this thing?" Liz sighed, getting a mental grasp on her thoughts, and Samar nodded.

"Ressler messaged me; he should be in within the half hour."

"Alright, perfect. Maybe with fresh eyes we can finally nail this guy."  
  


\----------

 

 

"Liz," Dembe opened the door, seemingly unsurprised that she was there, although she hadn't called ahead.

"Dembe," She smiled tightly, and he stepped aside to let her into the apartment.

"He's in the living room," Dembe gestured, and she nodded, squeezing his arm companionably for a moment.

"Thank you," She murmured, moving in that direction while Dembe closed and locked the door again. She wasn't sure where he disappeared to, but he didn't follow her into the room.

"Lizzie!" Red turned his head toward her, following her as she walked around the couch to stand in front of him. He showed his surprise, and gestured his glass in her direction. "Would you like some?" The liquor wasn't quite as clear as vodka, and she recognized it immediately.

"Not right now." She propped her hands on her hips, and tilted her head at him. He blinked at her calmly, and took a sip from his glass. When she didn't say anything, he mirrored the tilt of her head. "'We caught him," She told him, and he smiled widely, sitting up and leaning forward slightly.

"Excellent! It's always immensely satisfying, isn't it, when you're closing a particular frustrating cold one?" He mused, taking another drink as if in salute toward her. She narrowed her eyes ever so slightly at him.

"It's curious, though," She continued, sounding innocent enough, but she knew that would put him on alert. "How the whole thing starts from an anonymous tip during Ressler's lunch break, and it happens to connect to an old case of Ressler's, and then we find the perfect connection we needed from yet another anonymous tip, during Ressler's lunch break." She looked down at him now, her gaze direct. He stared back, nonplussed. "Curious how we struggle for weeks - Ressler for years - and then you get back in town and suddenly the case breaks wide open."

"That _is_  curious." Red agreed, lifting his glass to take another drink, still sitting there all casual as fuck. Liz stepped forward and snatched the glass from his hands, putting it on the side table and leaning over him, bracing her hand on the arm of the couch.

"Did you know this guy? Deacon? Did he work for you?" She asked, her eyes flitting back and forth as she stared into his.

"I only know of him," Red replied. Liz narrowed her eyes and leaned back just slightly, not believing him. He shook his head as if he were disappointed in himself. "I should have put it together, when you told me about the case the other night. Of course, that M.O. fits Deacon perfectly." He looked back up at her. "I'm assuming you've got sufficient evidence to put him away?"

"More than enough." Liz drawled, looking at him sideways. He blinked. She sighed.

"Would you like some, now?" Red looked toward his glass, reaching for it, and before she could think herself out of it she lifted her knees onto the couch, straddling his lap. He froze, his hand midair, his head whipping back toward her. It was almost comical, but she was too nervous just this second to laugh.

"I want something else," She told him, her face rather serious as she looked him right in the eye. He swallowed, rolling his tongue inside his mouth, his outstretched hand slowly lowering to the arm of the couch. "Where's Dembe?"

"You want Dembe?" He wondered a bit incredulously, distracted, his voice probably a little more unsteady than he would have liked.

"I want Dembe not to interrupt." Liz clarified determinedly, and he closed his gaping mouth. "How many of those have you had?" She tilted her chin toward the side table.

"That was my first," He replied, his eyes wandering down her neck when she pushed her hair back. He jerked his eyes back up toward hers, and she quirked her lips at him as she settled her weight down, sitting on his thighs now, and his eyes widened a little.

"I think we need to finish that conversation we had in my office a while ago," She informed him, her tone chiding. She slid her hands across his shoulders, toward his tie, down the line of buttons on his vest, and she felt his chest heave beneath her touch. She pulled one of the buttons open, and looked back up at him. "Don't you agree?"

He licked his lips, and nodded, his expression shifting from surprise to resolve, and he reverently slid his hands up the sides of her blouse, his fingers wrapping firmly around her waist. She began opening his vest now, and he tugged her close so he could kiss her, pushing his tongue into her mouth as he slid one of his hands up to cradle her cheek.

Once she'd opened his vest and started pushing at it, he removed his hands from her so he could shrug it off, blindly tossing it onto the couch next to them as he immediately wrapped his arms around her once more, all the while doing his best to keep on kissing her.

The things he was doing with his tongue and her mouth should probably be illegal.

Impatient, she rolled her hips against his, her fingers fumbling a little on his shirt buttons. With strength that she sometimes forgot about, he lifted her and moved one of his legs out so that she was now resting over just one thigh, and he pressed his leg up against her, encouraging her to move her hips again.

She moaned against his lips, some part of her in the very back of her mind embarrassed that she was dry-humping his leg in a room where one of his lackey's could just waltz right in, but also he didn't seem to be minding one bit.

"If Dembe interrupts I will shoot him," Red muttered against her neck, his hands warm against her skin as he reached beneath her blouse. She pulled back to peel it off, tossing it on top of his vest, and bit her lip as he breathed in deeply and stared at her. She took the opportunity to pull his tie loose and off as well, and his hands returned to her waist as if he couldn't fathom keeping them off of her.

She was alright with that.

He pulled her close again, kissing the hollow of her throat, and her collarbone, and then everywhere else he could reach, unclasping her bra on the way, only moving long enough to let it fall away before returning to his task.

She got her hands beneath his open shirt now, sliding them along the front of his tee, grumbling about his layers of clothes. He chuckled against her skin, that laugh that she loved, the one where his tongue touched the back of his teeth. She cradled his jaw in her hands and pulled his face back up where she could kiss his mouth again, this time taking control with her tongue again before he could, tasting him and the liquor he'd been drinking.

His hands curled around her ass, guiding her purposefully against his leg as he moaned into her mouth.

That's what she wanted. She wanted to hear him, watch him, feel him, fall apart.

And she was quickly reaching that point herself, and there was no way she was going to have him make her come _twice_  when he hasn't even once yet. She nipped his bottom lip, tugging at it as she also tugged on his belt, the metal clinking as she opened it. She pulled it from the loops of his trousers and had her fingers on the button of his pants when he grasped her hands in his own.

"Lizzie," He breathed - gasped, really, which made her feel rather proud - "wait," he grimaced a little, annoyed, and she tilted her face back far enough so she could look at him clearly. "I don't have any condoms."

She slowly let a smile drift across her face as she draped one arm around his neck and reached back into her back pocket with the other, tugging free the square package she'd put there for this very reason.

He looked like he was in awe of her.

"You planned this." He realized, that look in his eyes again, that look that both terrified her and elated her at the same time. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, pressing his forehead against her chest and hugging her tightly for a long minute. As much as he'd been obviously hoping for it, he seemed truly surprised that she _wanted_  to have sex with him, that she'd planned for it just in case.

She cradled his head in her hands, and kissed the top of it.

"Red," She murmured eventually, her body desperately craving his. She knew that he was more than ready, as well; she could feel the hard bulge in his trousers pressing against her knee.

"Okay," He replied, "okay," He helped her move onto the couch next to him, and he took the condom from her while she pushed her pants down and off her legs. She noticed from the corner of her eye him staring at her instead of doing anything else.

" _Red_ ," She pressed, and he almost jumped, nodding distractedly as he hurriedly undid his trousers. She straddled him again before he could push them off, and he quickly looked up at her. "Too many layers, taking too long," She complained again, pushing the fly of his pants out of the way. He swallowed shakily, and she knew well enough that it wasn't his lack of confidence.

He was in love with her.

She slowed down a little, trying to remember that. (See, she was in love with him, too, but she was being too impatient. She wanted to do slow later, right now she just wanted him. But he might not know that 'later' is an option, so, she forced herself to slow down a little now.)

"Can I?" She asked quietly, holding her palm up. It sounded the exact same way she'd asked to do his tie for him the other day, and she knew that he would notice that too.

Wordlessly, he handed the condom to her, his eyes on her face even after she dropped her gaze to his lap. Carefully, but direct, she reached into his briefs and freed his cock, feeling his thighs tense between hers. She glanced up at him, and his eyes had drifted closed.

His mouth had fallen slightly open again; he was more than likely trying to focus entirely on her touch. Fascinated by the expression on his face, she forgot about the condom for a moment and curled her fingers around his length, dragging her fist up, and then down, paying attention to how his breath changed.

He filled out further in her hand, and then he made a noise that she wasn't sure how to define, but it shot straight through her core.

Feeling her heart trying to beat itself out of her chest, she opened the package and slipped the condom on him, leaning forward to kiss him again as she lifted up on her knees. His eyes opened as his hands went to her waist, and somehow it wasn't uncomfortable at all as they stared into one another's eyes while he guided himself inside her.

He was looking at her even more intently than he had before, which was saying something, and she bit her lip as she shifted her hips experimentally.

He sucked in a breath, his fingers tightening against her skin, and she nodded, agreeing without either of them having to say a word. She wrapped her arms around his neck and held him close, their bodies sliding together as he breathed heavily against her ear.

It was a bit sloppy and quick and they never did quite find a rhythm but none of that mattered to her, because the way he moaned her name when he came was perfect.

And even as he was still moving inside her he slipped his hand down between them and then she came too, releasing a long and low hum against his neck that made him shiver.

She wasn't sure how long they stayed like that, half-boneless against the couch, but eventually her knees began to protest at their bent angle, and she pulled back far enough to see his face.

"I think," She sighed a bit longingly, "I should get dressed before Dembe walks in here." Red shook his head slowly, and she raised her eyebrow at him.

"I think," He helped her shift back so he could pull the used condom off, "you should stay exactly how you are, and we move this conversation to the bedroom."

"Really?" She said, unsure, glancing down before looking him in the eyes again. His eyes glinted darkly.

"Oh he may be done for the night," Red lowered his tone even further as he finished, "but I'm certainly not."

She breathed in deeply and held it for a moment. Staring into his eyes for a few more seconds, she got to her feet and grabbed their clothes, stepping slowly backwards from him.

"Well," She mused, giving him her best coy look. "Best get moving then, shouldn't you."

He pushed himself up from the couch slowly, tugging at his trousers and buttoning them so he wouldn't have to hold them up with his hand. She stepped back further into the darkened hallway, her grin widening, letting out a laugh when he strode toward her quickly.

A few minutes later, Dembe walked into the living room, pulling the headphones off of his ears as he looked around at the abandoned room. Red's glass was still half-full on the table, and there was a bra discarded half-underneath the couch.

Dembe chuckled once, tugging his headphones back over his ears and plopping down on the opposite end of the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table as he opened a book across his lap.

 

\----------

 _I'll use you as a focal point_  
_So I don't lose sight of what I want_  
_And I've moved further than I thought I could_  
_But I miss you more than I thought I would_  
_I'll use you as a warning sign_  
_That if you talk enough sense, then you'll lose your mind_  
_I found love where it wasn't supposed to be_  
_Right in front of me_


End file.
